Still Something to Prove
by Miss Soapy
Summary: Doesn't the fight for survival also justify swindle and theft? In self defense, anything goes.
1. Prolouge

I pressed my back to the cold, wet wall that dripped eagerly with rain. My pistols were nearly dry and raised to the sides of my face as I waited impatiently for the sound of helicopter blades ripping through the air.

"Where the fuck is it?" Francis growled, gripping his shotgun with one hand.

"How am I suppose to know?" Bill answered, agitated. I looked over at Louis and raised my eyebrows, curious to know if we were the only ones here without anger problems. Louis shrugged in return and held onto his Uzi when we heard the sound of the Horde echo in the stale air, followed by the noise of a helicopter.

"It's about time!" I screamed and aimed my pistols, firing at the Infected that spun and cut around the corner with savage looks upon their hungry, deformed faces. I heard Bill yell my name and I jumped backwards before turning completely and sprinting the the flying machine.

I was almost there when a cool appendage wrapped around my ankle and flipped my from my feet, my forehead smacking against the concrete due to the force. Letting out a scream, the three men fired off gunshots and the grip on my ankle fell limp, assuming the Smoker had died. Once again I pushed to my feet and raced over to the helicopter where I joined my team as the helicopter moved away from the roof of Mercy Hospital.

"This is fantastic. Finally, no more zombies!" I cheered in a dytharambic manner and set my fist into the air. One of the army men sat in the back with us and we made eye contact, but I furrowed my brows in confusion. His stare upon me looked frightened and sickening as he jumped to his feet and pushed through the others to stand face to face with me.

"Er...hey..." I awkwardly shifted and tried not to look at the man. He said nothing back to me. I was about to tell him I was rather uncomfortable with him being so close, but his hands grabbed chunks of my sweatshirt and he yanked me to the side with haste.

"What the hell are you doing!" Francis growled and tried to pull the man away from me.

But it was too late.

The army man pushed me backwards with extreme force and release my sweatshirt as My heels left the grated metal of the helicopter interior. Rain pounded against my face and my body recoiled as I was thrown from the helicopter in mid-flight.

"Zoey!" Louis shouted, followed by the other two screaming my name. My hands involuntarily reached out for something to grab, but there was nothing that could save me.

As my body ceased moving outward, gravity took over and I began dropping at a quick speed towards the ground. Watching the floors of Mercy Hospital go past me, I finally let out a scream that ripped my throat raw and it echoed through the empty city.

I was going to die, and I could have sworn I did as I hit the pavement with a sickening _thud_.

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**A/N: Alright, so I'm sorry that this first prologue type thing is reeeeally sucky! I'll rewrite it soon...I typed this all out on my iPod and I have to retype things and fix spelling/grammar. I apologize in advance, I really do...so please don't comment on that failing aspect.**

**But other than that, I really hope I do a good job with this!**

**-Miss Soapy 3**


	2. Death & Wall

**A/N: Before you guys leave any sort of review (not that you would!), please fully read the note BELOW! Thanks~**

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The blackness around me was too thick to see through and I waved my hands in front of myself, trying to get any idea of where I was.

My body stung as I stepped blindly into the pitch nothingness and I knitted my eyebrows, twisting my head side to side.

"Hello?" I choked out in a sore voice, immediately grasping my throat after I spoke.

_Shit that hurt...I guess when I screamed on the way down...wait...that's right! I fell!_

My body tensed up when I realized this and my eyes shifted into the dark that crowded me.

_Wait...that meant I was dead. This is what death looked like...shit it was horrible...! It was cold, dark, lonely, and no better than the apocalypse._

I began to shake and I searched for my sweatshirt pockets before digging my hands into them nervously. My footsteps made clear, loud echoes and then I remembered...

_My pistols had flashlights on them!_

As I reached towards my holster, I jumped when I felt absolutely nothing_. Dear God I wasn't even armed...!_

Taking a hopeless breath, I reached towards my pockets and furrowed my brows when my fingers made contact with a cool, smooth, metal like surface. Inspecting the object through feel even more, I blinked when I realized it was Bill's lighter.

_Oh, so personal possessions will pass over to death with me, but a gun won't! _Groaning, I pulled the lighter free from my jean pocket and flipped it open, struggling to actually click the flame on. After a few tries, I was finally able to illuminate the darkness...only to find nothing but a small marble path below my feet. Shuffling my black Converse around on the sparkling marble floor, I slowly began to follow it, curious as to where it led.

_Can't be anywhere good..._ I arched an eyebrow and held the flame out in front of me, squinting to see straight. The path winded and turned, but the darkness still clouded around it deeply. Death just wasn't a friendly place to be, and this path brought me deeper and deeper into it. I had no idea where I was going, but I felt compelled to just keep moving forward.

After walking for what seemed like hours, I finally caught a glimpse of something...what was that...?

A wall?

Drawing closer to the unknown object, my eyes widened when I noticed it WAS a wall.

A fucking wall!

My free hand tightened into a fist and then released as I pressed my palm against the cold indents of the jagged stones. All death was...was a wall?

This didn't make any sense...but then I noticed there was something scrawled across the stone. Taking a step backwards, I realized that it was writing...there was so much writing. I didn't find a single paragraph, but instead short phrases followed by signatures and occasionally, pictures.

Death was a wall that told some sort of story...but what was that story? My head pounded against my skull and I followed the long stone wall before coming to a stop at a large, opened space in the middle of all of the writing. A black sharpie sat pressed to the stone and I reached out and took it, uncapping the new marker. Furrowing my brows, I looked at the text around me.

God is dead.

Trust is bullshit.

This wall isn't big enough for me to being my story, or to tell you how much I love you.

Wtf, is this Death!

Unbelievable...

I wish you were here.

I bit my lip and my eyes scanned the various writing. They had to have been people that died in the Infection...I saw some of this stuff on saferoom walls, and it was exactly the same handwriting. Still, I didn't know what to write.

Was it suppose to be something about how zombies weren't suppose to run, or that I got cheated out of Death? There were so many things I could have written before all of them fell flat and I began to slowly write.

I MISS YOU GUYS. LOVE ZOEY

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My text was in large print and I recapped the marker, putting it into my pocket and retracing the letters with my index finger.

I wasn't about to write some senseless bullshit...I wasn't about to put some cute poem on the wall...

I missed Bill. I missed Francis. I missed Louis.

They were the only memory that I wanted to keep in Death...hey deserved to be on that wall.

I suppose I did something wrong because the wall began to shake and crumble as it collapsed into the ground, forcing that to also crack and threaten to give out. Taking a few steps backward, I watched the floor begin to cave in and I froze in place as the structure gave out beneath my feet.

My throat hurt from screaming and my hands grasped the lighter (that had been shut, mind you) tightly and I pulled it closer to my chest as I again fell through a dark abyss, my green eyes reflecting the dark waves around me.

Until finally I felt my back touch the ground oh so gently, and my chest jumped in pain once...then again...then again...

My eyes tore open and I coughed, blood trickling down my chin and neck. I gasped for air and forced it into my bruised lungs and ribs, trying to move my body but everything ached and I let out a shrill scream at the pain.

"Francis? Louis?" I choked out. "Bill?" my throat throbbed as I spoke and I saw two blurred men through my teary, swollen eyes. I couldn't tell if they were looking at me, but I watched one lift up an object away from my body and my chest lightened up a little, but air still stung like I was being _stabbed_ from the inside.

"She's speaking. Her voice functions are still intact." I tried to move, but my arms and legs were strapped down and I tried blinking my vision straight, faintly noticing a few curtains and some lights.

_That really tells me where I am. _I thought to myself with a growl when a gloved hand pulled at my eyelids, shinning a blinding light into it. I fidgeted, but couldn't move an inch, and then the light went into my other eye and finally pulled away.

"Pupils are normal...what did you say happened?" the voices didn't acknowledge me what-so-ever.

"The pilot confirmed she was infact pushed from the helicopter that recently had taken off from Mercy Hospital." the other answered in a very professional tone. The first voice laughed.

"Impossible!" it mocked. "How long did it take you to resuscitate her?" it added.

"About half an hour. We lost her several minutes later and it took us fifteen minutes to get her back, and then an hour later we lost her and then got her back*, and she was at a very low heart rate and low brain activity." I felt my eyes widen, but my gaze was still blurry and disoriented.

"Something must have broken her fall." I heard the elastic snap of the gloves. "Let's have a look at any bruises that couldn't have _possibly_ been caused by the fall."

As the buckles loosened against my body until I heard the _chink _of metal against either the floor or the small poles. I listened to the gritting noise of the zipper and the sides of my sweatshirt touched over my hands before being slipped off of my body.

I shrieked when they forced me to sit up a little, and I swear I could hear the sound of my bones shifting around. I was set back down and groaned as they took a pair of scissors and cut through the center of my shirt.

I use to have to watch this stuff in healthy class all the time. During car crashes and stuff, the paramedics and doctors would cut off clothing to get to the person that was in trouble. I didn't complain about loving the shirt because...truth was...I just really loved my jacket.

Next to go were my pants (I assumed they already took off my shoes) and they made a clean slice through the jeans and off they came.

It was freezing and I turned in embarrassment and pain as the two unknown spectators pressed their hands against my body, then pull away, then do it again.

"Bruises all around the ribcage...caused from fall...swollen around the elbows and wrists, probably put them out to break the fall...nothing abnormal." the second voice told the first one.

"Here's something..." the first voice began and I felt the hand push against my ankle, my thigh, and then, around my torso. "It looks like something wrapped around her and almost prevented the impact of the fall.."

My thoughts trailed away from that voices and I closed my eyes, focusing on my beathing.

_If I had bruises on my ankle up to my torso...a Smoker must have grabbed me...right? Hell, that would explain how I don't have brain damage or a speech problem...but I hit the ground hard...hard enough to kill me...ugh...I hate medical knowledge..._

When I opened my eyes again, I was laying on the floor of a clean white room that had only one metal door and one large, tinted, plexiglass window.

I tried to push myself to sit up, but the pain in my body throbbed and pounded from my head to my toes.

"Where am I...?" I muttered and traced the floor with my finger, making small, unrealistic designs, but nobody answered me. The dim light made me drowsy, and my eyelids felt heavy, although I had no desire to sleep.

My body hurt, and it would take forever to recover...

But a Smoker "broke my fall", I got pushed from a helicopter, I lost Francis, Bill, and Louis...what else could possibly go wrong?

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**A/N: I want to say that the beginning of this chapter was alright in my eyes...and then it got bad. I just didn't like how I continued it. I this chapter written before, and then I rewrote it and I think it was still bad...**

**Um...so although I really like critism because it helps me build as a writer, but I'd rather not get any on this chapter, seeing as I'm not very good at building up to the story I really want to write about...**

**And I also have a *somwhere, and I wanted to say this:**

***I'm not positive if it's actually possible for a person to be resuscitated and then have the paramedics lose them multiple times...I'm not a paramedic or anything, and if anybody knows, I'll fix that...**

**I'm working on Chapter Three and hopefully, things will get better...I think they will...**

**Thanks for reading...?**

**-Miss Soapy 3**


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